Pickin'

THAT was a good one.  It didn't even make it into the bucket.

Snapped this photo and then proceeded to eat all the berries you can see here.  ALL of them.  Every last one.  Not kidding in the least.  And then struck back out to refill the cache.

I'm a berry-picking whore.  

There.  I said it.  I'll sacrifice my skin and clean clothes for the promise of those sweet sweet nubbly pearls of goodness that melt so merrily on my tongue.  For the promise of berries swirled in yogurt or plopped onto ice cream or baked in a cobbler or tossed by the handfuls down the gullet... I'm a weak woman.  When others (a.k.a. BC) have long since given up and surrendered to the lull of stretching out on the river banks I keep on picking and plucking... one for the bucket, two for me.  I'm sure if you were to view a cross-section of my stomach right now, it would stained the most luscious shade of purple - absolutely worthy of being named the Pantone color of Summer 2010.

What is it about summer that is worth the sacrifice for you?

Is it the threat of sunburn to hike one more hour?  The peril of a pedicure chipped and worn from dipping toes in the ocean?  The danger of never returning to the inside world or the hazard of running willy nilly all the way down to Costa Rica to live in sarongs and straw hats till your dying breath?

What IS your favorite thing about these golden dog days?

Today

The house feels quiet and slow, like stretching toes into warm sand.

I'm eating pita chips and the last cold dregs of breakfast tea, wearing the comfiest pants I own.

The haphazard composition of empty avocado shell, used knife, pointed tomato stems and dirty cutting board still on the counter from breakfast pleases my eye.

The cats had a fight, scaring me and littering the grass outside with tuffs of orange and brown hair.

I've been looking at the photos I took when SHE was here, thinking about that long walk through wide fields, the way the fog rolled in over our heads, the sunlight becoming surreal, the way we spoke of noticing the small things, the minute details, of being so intentional.  And how bad we needed to pee while still three miles out from the house.

*****

I had a vision a couple days ago, a vision of the painting sort.  I had to set my other paintings aside, slice off a huge swatch of fabric and stretch a new canvas that day.  It's coming along, a dangerous sort of beauty, gray and undulating and I can hear it calling my name all the way from the studio.  I think I'll pop the kettle on, mix up a fresh pot of tea and answer.

Post-Bloggy Break (that I forgot to mention...)

Ciao Bellas e Bellos!

Well I'm afraid you'll just have to forgive me for the unannounced week-off of the interwebs but I've had the best excuse:

The Mme. came to play.

As you can well imagine, there has been a flurry of chatter, an innumerable number of lattés, more glasses of wine than I have fingers (or desire) to count, incredible conversations on what it is to be an artist, on the condition of human existence (and the beautiful simplicity of capturing moments in photography), the hardship of not owning certain Channel tights or certain Anthropologie arm chairs, the funny squeak that my laugh has developed and scandalous giggles at our shared irreverence.

 Above all, there has been a swelling of my heart to be in the company of one of my favorite women in all the earth.

Plus, we bought matching construction-worker-orange cardigans and teal striped knee-socks.  Because now that we are no longer neighbors separated by a measly 112 feet, we can justify buying the exact same clothes.

It's been a break for my head and for my heart, 'cause there is nothing, NOTHING in this world like the balm of a good friend.

And now, off to dine and dip in the Finnish hot tubs (for the second time this week).  Cheerio!

Seven Degrees of Discerning: Be Here and Now

From my newest series, Seven Degrees of Discerning. These pieces are part personal messages that I need to be reminded of daily, part love of totem animals (and recognizing them as stand-ins for self-portraiture) and partly birthed from studying ancient belief systems of connecting our physical bodies with our emotional being.

And so I'm delighted to show you the first in the series, the root, the reminder of Earth, of survival, of stillness, of being present, "Be Here and Now."

:: Be Here and Now ::

I press my feet against the earth, plant my heels down in that rich soil.

The future is coming, after all, isn't it always? But as I pull this atmosphere into my lungs and sense the touch of sky upon my skin, what happens tomorrow seems a long way off.

Right this second, ten thousand microscopic creatures are carrying about their lives unseen below my toes. Right now ten tons of water is being released into the air with little more than a whisper by the foliage standing upright. Right now the moon is pulling the tides and the earth is obliging it's heavenly path.

Right now there is no other place I can be, no other place I want to be, no other place I'm supposed to be. So I am.

Here.

Now.

I press my feet against the earth, plant my heels down in that rich soil.

"Be Here and Now"

Oil on Canvas, 8" x 8"

2010

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Prints of "Be Here and Now" will be available in the shop tomorrow morning, Friday the 6th along with a small company of other new-to-etsy prints (WHAHOO!). I'm not planing on placing the original painting in the shop any time too soon HOWEVER if you are interested in owning the Original please feel very free to drop me an email at kclarkstudios[at]gmail.com.

On that note, I'm headed South to the country for a day with my sister, stopping only for lattés, lunch-to-go and anything else two sassy fems may feel like on a Thursday afternoon.

Matchie Matchie

When the boy's away, the toes will play...